Personal Survival Guide

What makes a happy life? Is it friends and family, money and esteem, or is it excitement and travel? Is it love? What is the missing ingredient to making a day worth exploring and a life worth living?

In my opinion, a happy life is linear with an understanding of self. It is linear with questioning personal standards and coding life actions by upholding those standards. Do you take the time to reflect on your words before a thought becomes an action? Do you take the time to reflect on your direction and exemplify your goals toward the higher purpose of being a more caring and compassionate person? Would you not agree that our eventual and higher purpose is to be happy: to live a good and just life?

The following are my thoughts on what it means to be happy and to live a virtuous life. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

Day in and night out, I consistently state an internal motto to cope with situations in order to bypass unexpected scenarios. When frustration rears its ugly head and nips at my mental, it can be so easy to nip back and loose a verbal assault of anger and incipient insults. This internal reaction occurs for a second or two when I am confronted by ugly frustrations - in the past, I would automatically sputter a regrettable reply. Nowadays, I choose to breathe deep internally and release an external reflection opposed to a reactive action.

I have a secret to share with everyone but I will only promise to tell it if you promise not to keep it a secret. Most people are afraid to tell secrets because secrets can be a formula for success over an obstacle to personal development and knowledge. But withholding valuable and simplistic wisdom does not enable anyone to succeed in this life. However, before I devolve my secret it is important to understand what I hold priceless in life.

Ethics: yes, ethics. Ethics are the code of non-contradictory moral principles that I use to judge my decisions and actions. For example, I believe dishonesty is wrong and therefore will not lie even if it means saving my own ass. To progress that thought a little further: I have refined my virtues as a step above my ethical principles because virtues are moral practices that must be reflected upon daily. Virtues are the credo in life that enable me to make ethical decisions because my virtues have trained my mental capacities to already know what to do before I have to do. It essentially comes down to who judges me after this life has expired and not who judges me during my time on this mortal plane.

So, with that thought in mind, here's my secret: I have come to see over the past six years of my life that it is critical to apply patience in your life. The only end result anger has ever supplied is to hurt another human either physically or mentally - and that is not the end result to which we need aspire. Human beings have an unlimited capacity for compassion and love for other fellow human beings - we all know what it means to feel pure joy and love flood our souls. We also know what it means to feel pain or suffering - we know it is unnecessary as well. Yet why does it come down to us having to choose between pain and love? Why is it that we incessantly choose to pile the former upon others instead of the latter? Why is pain so readily available in our lives when happiness is so hard to come upon?

I encourage you to reflect on your thoughts before those thoughts become an action. I encourage you to value patience as a virtue because it will allow you to bypass previously coded reactions. Patience enables us to recognize the triggers that transform an individual from a sane person into a sputtering-frothy-spittle-producing-ball-of-rage. Patience offers the ability to not only recognize the triggers that set us off but specifically recognize who we are after the frustration has passed - to see that we held our mental stability while everyone else lost theirs. Patience offers us the opportunity to gain composure not to lose composure.

Patience is not easy to come by. It takes practice and training of your mental to achieve a moment of clarity in the heat of battle. Patience means biting your tongue instead of lashing out. Patience means loving your enemy and finding their good points versus their bad. Tough, I know, and it is one aspect of patience that I am learning every single day. It can be so easy to forget who you are and what you want; and it can be so hard to hold your voice and listen to reason. It is not simple; in no way, shape, or form is it simple. It is not meant to be. But you must at least attempt before you even give up on an idea.

Virtues such as patience help us grow and develop into a higher form of being - a form of being higher than surface level frustrations; higher than surface level insignificances. Personally, through the practice of patience on a consistent day in and night out basis, I have come to see that my character has evolved oh so quickly. Patience allows me to see my past grievances for what they are: simple mistakes that I made before and now I do my best to clear my thoughts before those mistakes happen again.

We learn from mistakes. We learn from our indiscretions. We learn from other people. Through it all we learn how to segue knowledge into wisdom. It is through wisdom that we evolve. Think about it. That is all I can ask. Tell me if you agree. Tell me if you disagree. Tell me a time when patience saved you from making a horrible mistake or loosing an unnecessary scathing response. Even better: tell me sometime down the road that frustration was nipping at you and instead of nipping back, well; tell me you remembered my words. Tell me that those words made a world of distance and in that one second of reflection - tell me you felt an evolution taking place. Tell me in that one second that you felt happiness enter your soul. Tell me it made you smile. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"The strongest of all warriors are these two - Time and Patience." - Leo Tolstoy

Thankful Thoughts

I walked home in a wet and rainy Alberta autumn last night and thought about my life. I revisited the times when a seemingly impenetrable wall was broken down only to be replaced by an even bigger obstacle. I reflected on days when I only ate Boost and Jell-o in order to keep my body alive and fed with basic nutrients. The rains fell harder and the winds intensified.

Then I smiled.

You see, nothing can dampen my spirit: not the elements, no matter how torturous they may seem nor the haunted memories of what was seemingly eons ago. I have seen the darkest of eves, I have faced the darkest of demons, and I have journeyed into the darkest canyons of soul.
It comes down to my love of life. It comes down to gathering minutes and seconds from my days and weeks. It comes down to filtering through those times and finding small trinkets of happiness and gratitude. It comes down to thankful thoughts that I am here to experience everyday like it is my first footstep on earth.

Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I give thanks for the woman I call Mother. She holds me when my head is heavy and my neck is oh so tired from carrying the weight on my shoulders. She faces her fears and believes it is all for a reason – that this too will eventually pass. She is my strength. She is a reason for becoming something more than I ever thought possible. For her I am thankful.

I give thanks for the innocence of children. How they can find the purity in a soft breeze or the mischief in a falling leaf. They giggle and dance amongst the seconds of youth. They remind me there is no need to hurry because there will always be enough time. For them I am thankful.

I give thanks for my friends that call and write to say they love me or to harass because of my occasional lapses in conversation. They bring me so much strength and power with their words and yet some tell me they need to hear my thoughts of peace, passion, and progress. They say how my words permit them to fade away into personal reflection on individuality and life direction. For them I am thankful.

I give thanks for my travels to mountains of grandeur with peaks of untouchable heights. I marvel at the clouds that dip in homage to the earthly magnificence of beauty and grace. I leave my footprint on the world in places I have seen before and envision leaving more footprints on white sandy beaches with crystal blue waves. For this I am thankful.

I give thanks for nights spent before a roaring bonfire with companions who share stories of similar mirth and wonder. I remember chords of music drifting softly into the nighttime air and mingling with a collection of frozen breath and warm dreams. For this I am thankful.

I give thanks for her. I never knew what love was meant to feel like or how it would taste on my lips. I never knew it would come when least expected or from an island so far away yet oh so close. She brings such happiness and she brings such tidings of faith that we will make it the life we always desired. Her smile illuminates the lonely corners of a remembered nightmare and touches the young boy who was left behind in the dark. Together our laughter becomes music and I believe even the angels stop to listen to our harmony and bask in our light. For her I am thankful.

I give thanks for life. For basic simplicities such as falling asleep and greeting my dreams in the night. Or waking in the morning and giving thanks for another day and another chance. For breathing in one more day and for the opportunity to breath in so many more. For this I am thankful.

How have you given thanks today? For the stranger who held the door with a strong hand and a kind smile? For the loved one who held you close and kissed you goodbye? Have you given thanks for life? Please take some time, no matter where you are no matter what you may be doing, just take a few seconds to collect a short list of thanks. Take the time to be the reason why someone else gives thanks one day. I give thanks for you all. Continue on and follow the road to happiness. In the end it will all lead to salvation. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

“If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself.” – Minquass Indian Proverb

Take Your Hands Off Me

"This is private property", said the man and added, "You have no right to be here".

I nodded my head, walked away, and wondered why someone would want to have that much solitude: away from the world and away from prying eyes. I thought about the heartache he must have endured during his years that caused him to isolate him self apart from others.

The tide started to come in and the onrushing ocean crashed over my toes. I stood on a waterlogged beach in front of a tiny island on the most northern tip of Canada. Across the water lay the Pacific Rim, and many, many miles after that: Japan. Sitting of top of this island was a house miles away from the nearby forest, much less any nearby humans. I remember thinking that day about our privacy and the people we allow in on that privacy...and the reasons we keep others away.

Here you go, and may you enjoy.

When I stand alone from you, it only means I am standing apart. I am only seen as someone on the outside of your world. It is up to the individual to decide if a person is allowed entry into their thoughts. Until that moment occurs, well; we stand apart from others that are not like our selves.

Not like our selves to the naked eye that is.

Because when I am alone with you, it is easy to see that I actually love the art of conversation: you talk, I talk, we share, we laugh. It is in my nature to laugh and when I am not able, it seems like I am on the outside looking in. Looking in on a world I do not feel apart of. I step away and wonder if it will really be true one day. If it really is possible to have a friendship of significant proportions...one that will pass through a lifetime.

Or if it is true that all friendships are just to pass the time with.

For, you see, it is necessary to devolve who we are in order to create a bond. It is basic requirement for future interactions that you tell me your dreams and your aspirations. It is so asked because I would love to be there when your life unfolds: when it all comes rushing at you as if you were standing underneath a cascading waterfall...on a hot tropical beach in the middle of anywhere you want to be.

This is friendship to me: it truly is. To trust another so much that you not only tell them your dreams, but that you see them being an important aspect of those same dreams. Alone I have the same dreams and apart I still keep them true. I will tell you all that I long to travel, that I long to smell new fragances rising on the summer wind, and I long to feel the same hand in mine as we both experience the same rush.

I long for a life less ordinary. I know it exists because I have tasted it: I have felt it brush across my face enticing me to journey. The North wind it blows and calls for me to come run once more and take a tumble or two and rise again. It is how we learn and understand that we must trust. If you trust in that the Universe will take care of you, well; then you can trust in the process of life to lead you in the right direction. Together is the key, and not alone or apart; together we can do anything...yet alone with you I can do so much more.

Alone I am strong.

Apart I am mystery.

Alone I am who I want to be.

Apart I am someone to observe.

It is the in-between gap that I wonder of at times. How I can bridge the distance to show you intelligence, to show you humour, to show you insight. Insight to my mind, insight to my questions, insight to my soul. For you see: alone with her I am loved. Alone with her I am inspired. Alone with her I see a life so strong and yet it is only in the making. But apart from her I am missed. Apart from her I long to see her smile. Apart from her I can only envision the future we both see happening.

In the end it is all about trust and not about bricking your self up one at a time. Slowly, until the world is sealed away, and you find your self alone and apart. Do not place your self on a island because that is to shut away heart; that is to shut away life. I only ask this because it comes from personal experience of doing the same thing. From a time that it seemed easier to shut down my heart and ignore the pleading of my soul: to give in to the darkness and believe there truly is no light.

But there is. There is light for us one and all. There is a love so pure that we can all taste it and absorb its shared warmth. We all have our trials and tribulations, and Lord knows we all want to just quit at times. It would be easier than facing what we know may never go away. But facing your fears is the only way to accept them. To accept your fears is the only way to acknowledge them. To acknowledge your fears is the only way to admit they are apart of you...that they exist no matter if you are alone or apart.

Life continues on. Won't you continue on with it? It is the only true way to leave a legacy that you really were here. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"I dream of high clouds flushed with light of daybreak...I'm gonna dive into water so cold it makes your bones ache." - David Gray

Stealth Missions

A strange thought hit me tonight. When these thoughts come into my mind, I have a tendency to reflect on my past. Reflecting on my past usually opens a box of stories and all these memories spill out.

I have lived so many lives. I have seen so many things. I have formed so many memories. The following is one of them. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I dropped into the chute and surveyed my surroundings. The chute was dangerously steep and bordered by high, rocky cliffs. I shifted my weight over my snowboard and descended lower into the valley. The snow underneath me shifted and swayed like a soft summer wave. It was so lush and so soft.

It was so iniquitously deep.

I eased the pressure off my back foot and turned straight for the cliff drop a mere 10 feet from the nose of my board. I had been in this position so many times before, and yet each time I wondered why I kept doing it. I had many concussions, many separated bones, many an oft fractured tailbone...and yet.

It is the freedom of it all. It is the flow of consciousness into a space where all that matters is the rush and the survival.

My speed picked up and I could feel the snow catch my board and throw up little waves of white here; there; and everywhere.

I remember thinking about another time when I was high up on a launching platform of a different sort. I listened to my heavy breathing in my ears, felt my heart thump, thump, thump blood as it raced into my veins and became liquid adrenaline.

Only a few feet now. I smile in anticipation.

Flash goes the photograph in my head as I regress back to that night as my whole world ran before me; all out of control. I taste the fear on my lips from the terror of what I was about to do. I think my heart stopped its mad crazy, thump, thump, thumping.

I feel the rush of insanity flail my bones with glee and vicious laughter.

The chute bottom ends out into a freefall into nothing. I spring off the lip of snow like a cheetah springing off a boulder unto its fresh prey. My breath freezes in my throat and for that brief utter split of time there is nothing but me; my soul; and my freedom.

I flash back in that stolen fraction of time and remember nothing from another moment of flight. I cringe for something I do not recall a memory of. I cringe for the crunch I never actually felt but still hold in the basin of my past.

Then, suddenly, the ground rushed up at me and I explode with a pop of snow and an explosion of a white heaven. I surfed the deep pockets of powder and the memory from that night faded away into a hushed whisper and a promise that it would always return.

I sit here and realize that I am almost done my last round of personal edits. That tomorrow morning I will be printing off my first manuscript and couriering it to my editor. I think of all the stories it contains; all the emotions; all the personal hardships.

I laugh and wonder if it will be read.

It is almost ready now; one more step in so many more to come. I reflect on all the stories that have come; ponder the ones that have yet to make an appearance. But I know there is so much time.

My quest for peace is what pushes me on. To be more; to become more; to see more. To find satisfaction of seeing a beautiful sunset, to see a loved one smiling at me, to hold her hand as she holds mine. Peace, my friends, peace. It was what held my body together not so many years ago; it was what held my life together in the shambles of insanity. It held broken bones together and refused to allow me to break again.

Ever since I have started this website, there have been numerous references to a book, to a fraction of images that have never been truly explained. But it will all be explained in time and my story will be there for all to read. We desire the reality of flesh and blood; we desire it to transport us into our memories and allow permission to live through another's eyes. To dream with another.

Dreams are for the making for us one and all. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"I've had a chance to be insane, asylum from the falling rain...I've had a chance to break."
- Anthony Keidis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers

Nothing Wasted

I heard the pop of shattering glass seconds before I saw her: an older lady in her motorized wheelchair, sitting in shock in front of a broken pane of glass on an entry door into the mall. I took in the scene while briefly watching all the people walking by making comments and snide remarks.

Yet not one of them stopped to assist her.

I did. Plus one other lady who walked with the aid of a cane. Together as one, we offered our help. The rest is what happened from there. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

We asked her if she was okay: if she was cut or if she had caused any harm to her body. Both of us brushed the glass of her feet and legs and picked out shards from her small little front basket on the chair.

"I was doing so well," she said.

I looked at her, jarred by the sound of her voice, and the depth of emotion it held.

Her hands gripped the handlebars of the steering column and I watched as they shook uncontrollably...and then I realized she did not have complete control of her bodily actions. I realized that she ran into the window because her reaction time was dulled; not by age but by an affliction I may never know.

My heart went out to her and tears welled up in my eyes. The other Good Samaritan asked once more if she was okay and I picked up on her slight yet thick familiar accent. "What part of Newfoundland are you from?" I asked her.

"St. John's", she said.

I laughed. "So am I. It would make sense that the only people who came to her aid would be Newfoundlanders." We both laughed and the lady smiled at us.

As security guards showed up to take care of the broken glass, I walked away and started to think of the irony of it all. There were only three of us and yet all three were, at some point, in the same similar position at one time on their life.

Let me explain. You had the older lady in the motorized wheelchair, the lady with the cane, and me: once upon a time I was encased in a body cast made of fibreglass and plaster. I was defenseless; I had no control; I could only depend on the kindness of strangers; I could only depend on my Mother...at one time in my past I was as helpless as a newborn baby at the tender age of twenty six years old.

Three individuals who were all in three stages at one time in their life. I thought about life and what I was being told; why I had walked by at that exact same instant; what message was being shown that I was not seeing...all of these and more rushed through my head.

I came to the conclusion that I must do something more; that I must not waste any more time on trivial worries and that I must start it now...but start what? Start where? Do I drop out of school and enter a law program in order to fight for the rights of the underprivileged? Do I start up a campaign and raise funds for those who have nothing to eat or no place to sleep or who are unable to pay rising medical bills?

Then, in the midst of all my mental clamour and distress, my Island girl talked to me and pulled my thoughts from my head. She told me that I will do what is needed; that I will make it right one day; but that today was not that day. Write, she said, just write and do what you are meant to do. We both know you were saved from death in order to become something more; we both know you are protected. For that matter, she said, we are all protected but it is only that we all do not realize it.

"Life is happening all around us", she said. "You only hear of a person being kidnapped in Trinidad, but do you hear of the collective Islanders saying prayers for their safe return? Do you hear of the novena's and countless prayers being repeated again and again to ask for God's help?"

"No", she said, "No; because you only hear of the next kidnapping. You only hear of the evil more than the good. It is the evil that sells. But good will always prevail. There is more good than there is evil and the sure numbers of that alone predicate success. Life will prevail."

As we stood on the dock, seagulls fluttered all around us, buffeted by the wind and sailing on the currents of air. I was reminded of another time in life when I had stood on another dock and watched other seagulls fly above my head. I was reminded of the gift that I opened that day and a gift I have always treasured ever since.

The gift of life. It is the gift of our present; the gift of time. We all have as much as we need to go and make a difference. To make a difference in your self; to make a difference in those around you; to inspire others to make a difference in them selves. Help those who are unable to help them selves. Shine bright so that those in the darkness can see that there is light up ahead. I have done everything in my power to ensure that I have made the most of that gift since that day I stood on that same dock, so many years ago; yet as fresh as yesterday. I have made sure that no moments are wasted and that every last iota of life is treasured and valued. Nothing should ever be wasted when it comes to our lives. We may only have this one chance.

I am closer than ever to having my book ready to publish. It is a story about failure; it is a story about triumph; it is a story of one man's journey through life. It is mine for all to read and hopefully learn from; to hopefully analyze; to hopefully show just how strong the human spirit truly is. It will be another year before it is ready, but what is a year but a drop of sand in the hourglass of the Universe? What is a year but another chance at redemption? What is a year but a collection of happy minutes and seconds turning over and over on the hand of time until they become the memories of our lives.

Live it now. Live it for you; live it for her; live it for him; live it for those that are no longer with you. Just please...live it in the best way imaginable. Attain to that higher plateau and see that it is really not that high after all...and when you do, I will be glad to offer my hand in assistance but most importantly: in congratulations. Live. Breathe. Dream. Succeed. Dance. Laugh. Dream some more. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." - Leo Buscaglia

Salt of the Earth

"Don't you consider that word derogatory?"

It was years ago when I was asked that question. I sat in an apartment in Lake Louise and was just telling a newfie joke when my Ontario friend asked me about the use of the term itself. I thought about it for a second, looked at him, and said, "No. That is what I am."

I was so wrong. I was so, so wrong. I was guilty of classifying my self and my people into a stereotype.

We are different people, my friends, but we are by no means a stereotype. Let me explain. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I stood in a bar a couple of summers ago, on a humid evening in downtown Halifax, and watched an Irish band sing and dance. The lead singer had a deep resonating voice that carried me away back into childhood days of cutting a jig and rug under my feet. Then it dawned on me.

I knew him.

It had been over a decade ago since we last met, and that had been during our high school days in St. John's. His name was Arthur O'Brien and his band was called The Navigators. After his set was over, I walked up to say hello, and then we stepped out for a drink.

I started talking about home and how I missed it; of how it had been over ten years since I last laid eyes on her rugged and welcoming coast. I mentioned the term "newfie" in passing and Arthur stopped and contemplated my words. Then he spoke and I will never forget what he said.

"We are Newfoundlanders...we are not "newfies". That was a term created in the early seventies when a wave of us emigrated off the rock in search of work; in search of ways in which to feed us; in search of ways to feed our own. For the most part, we landed in Ontario, and if you were to take all the first generation Newfoundlanders out of that province and return them home, well; you would over-populate the island."

"Unfortunately, for some reason, we were looked down upon by everyone outside our island...maybe it was our accent or dialect, maybe it was for our dry humour and ability to take a joke. But, for some reason, that moniker stuck with us and has haunted us ever since. People who have never even placed so much as a toe in Newfoundland feel they have the right to call us by that slanderous name...but they are so wrong in thinking that way."

I have never used that word ever since that day and I have made it a solemn oath to correct anyone who does use it. It is not racist per se but it does hold racist undertones for me. It is an ignorant stereotype used by people who are either too lazy or too daft to properly express their thoughts in words. It is improper to refer to my people in that manner; even though my people occasionally use it to refer to themselves.
Newfoundlanders are the salt of the earth, my friends: we are gregarious, we are gracious, and we are ever so grateful. Did you know that there was a Newfoundlander with Abraham Lincoln at the Gettysburg Address? Did you know that Cabot Tower on Signal Hill in St. John's was the origin of the first transatlantic wireless message? Did you know that a Newfoundlander invented the gasmask? Or that the first successful, non-stop, transatlantic air voyage left from Newfoundland? Or that Newfoundland was the first to respond to the Titanic distress call?
We are known worldwide on the basis of our bravery on one tragic day in July 1st, 1916, during World War I. We are especially known worldwide for our hospitality and welcoming ways, as shown after September 11, 2001, when all planes were grounded and Newfoundlanders opened their doors and offered our homes as places of rest for those without a place to lay their head.

I spent this past summer in Gros Morne National Park, Newfoundland, the origin of the Continental Drift Theory, and stayed in a boarding room with a lovely family. One day, after a long day of writing and prepping for a morning hike, I came home and found my dinner: bologna and potatoes. I laughed. My host looked at me and said, "Well, come on now...we are newfies."
I didn't say anything that day because he was right, but technically wrong in his use of description: yes, we are; but no, we are not because we are Newfoundlanders first and foremost. We are not a label, we are not a stereotype, and we are most definitely not the laughing stock of Canada...although if you listen to its jokes about us you would believe it to be true.

We have an amazing sense of self, my friends, because we are able to laugh at our selves; we have clarity in our words because our words hold truth and value; we have substance because that is what we come from: salt of the earth. We have character that is moulded from our upbringing and our value in morals and ethics.

We welcome all visitors like family. We are Newfoundlanders.

So, go ahead, tell us a joke about Newfoundlanders: I guarantee you we have heard them all. If by chance, we laugh, then go ahead, tell some more. But, please understand, we are a proud people, and pride can only take so much nescience. When this happens to me, I always leave the best joke for last: What is black and blue and floats in the harbour? It is a mainlander after telling too many newfie jokes. Har-dee-har-har-har. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"Humour is an affirmation of God's dignity, a declaration to man's superiority to all that befalls him."- Romain Cary

Peace Be With You

It was not so many years ago that I stood in a cool Colorado summer breeze, and brushed tears from my eyes. I had just made a pact with God. We agreed that if he brought her home safe, sound, and intact for me, then I promised to find peace in my life. She pulled into the driveway not even a mere thirty minutes later.

She is no longer in my life; no longer are we in contact; our time together, even at that moment, had passed, but yet I have strived to keep up my end of the bargain ever since that night. I have been tested time and time again, but yet every test is no more than a trial and tribulation. Each test is no more than a reason to give thanks for what life offers and attain to that higher plateau of peaceful harmony.

Peace is what has driven me in this life ever since that fateful night, so far away from friends and family, so lonely and desperate for salvation, and in the darkest depths of depression a man can ever experience. In that moment I spoke with God, there was no safe haven for me anymore...except in the safety of his arms. This is not about religion or piety, my friends, it is more so about how I have found peace in the semblance of my life. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

I have found peace with who I am. I am confident in my self even when I am surrounded by strangers in a sea of umbrella's on a rainy day in New York City. I have found peace in that.

I have found peace in understanding and recognizing the value of fear. I have respect for it yet know it is needed to relinquish control and cascade off a thirty foot cliff with nothing more than a snowboard strapped to my feet...and soft snow beneath to feather my fall. I have found peace in that.

I have found peace with my friends and family. I love them because they show love for me. They accept me for who I am, who I am becoming, and the man they see growing right before their very eyes. They are my heart and soul. They are my very being. I have found peace in that.

I have found peace with my personal choices and decisions. I am creating a life full of wonder through learning and knowledge; it is one rich with wisdom and belief in character. I allow my self to make mistakes and therefore allow the freedom to make my own decisions and grow from those mistakes. Not to grow up per se, but more so to grow down into my soul; to become one with humanity yet stay distinct in my identity. I have found peace in that.

I have found peace with money. I am a poor student with an eye to the future. I know I will make my own personal fortune one day and that I will design it with my own creativity. It will come when it is ready; when I have put in my complete time and effort; when it is decided I am ready for it. Then and only then. I have found peace in that.

I have found peace in life. I am grateful for all it offers; all it grants. I have found peace in following one day after the next and collecting them each into a memory of my time on this earth. I have found peace in the fact that love is alive. I have found peace that I can smile through all the travesties that have been heaped upon me in my short number of years. I have found peace that I will be able to continue smiling no matter what ever else may come my way.

I have found peace in the fact that I am protected.

So, you may ask, how do I know for sure that I have found peace in life? Well, peace is not something we find and then take complacency in it; no, peace is something we strive for every day of our lives until this life is past and our mortal remains are scattered in the rising winds. I know for sure I have found peace by this simple fact: whistling. I whistle when it rains; I whistle when I am sad; I whistle when I am happy; I whistle when I do not even feel like whistling because the act of it alone makes me smile.

So, just go ahead: whistle your worries away and try to refrain from smiling. Listen as others around you join in and whistle their own personal ditties. Realize that it will all be okay one day; that it will all work out in the end. May we all find it one day. Peace be with you. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"Imagine all the people living in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you will join us, and the world will live as one." - John Lennon

Necessity of Imagination

Imagination is so key to our everyday lives. The majority of society use it to run away from our problems, some use it to create another life, and others use it to escape the boredom of the ins and outs of one meaningless day after another meaningless day. But there is a minority who use it for what it is really meant for: the combination of reflected thought and insightful language for the application of influential speech.
Let me explain.
I just recently finished a book by Northrop Frye called the Educated Imagination which is a splendid and thought-provoking read, yet a mere sixty five pages in length. Frye writes a collection of his thoughts on the link between literature and imagination and how they are both valuable in moulding an individual's mind. Image and conceived image that society creates for us are important points in his words. His words inspire and teach the individual that we need to educate our minds and step away from the mass collective of sheep standing in line waiting to be sheared; to be an individual. I read, re-read, read some more, and then re-read after that. I learned some things. Here you go and may you enjoy.
Necessity is the link between what we want and what we need. There are many tangible necessities in life: food, water, and sleep being the main staples. Clothing is deemed necessary by society but there are many cultures that do not believe in that necessity. I personally know of one such culture just below the University of British Columbia campus called Wreck Beach that feels the same way. Clothing is en par with image, and image whether you want to admit it or not, is defined by your peers and that of mass society.

Society is made up of a collective of individual cliques that strives to define and maintain who we are, what we are, and what we eventually become through our chosen image. It defines what a freak is and who the freaks are through their choice of dress and mannerisms; it defines what high class is and who is considered to be upper echelon through their dress and mannerisms; and it defines what cool is by well-placed styled and choice of language and actions.
However, the irony is that although mass society defines image, it is the individual who defines style for the masses. That is, personal style is key in maintaining image but a person with style dresses not for others but more to influence the thoughts of others. In other words, I dress to impress your image of me but your image of me has nothing to do with my identity. If you stripped me down to bare skin it would not strip my identity because my identity is formed through personal reflection of who I am. No one can take that away from me; no one should be able to take that away from you. The clothing you wear is not necessarily who you are but more so a reflection of the fact you are comfortable in your identity of being an individual.

Your imagination is an expression of that individuality.
Individual imagination is the link between creativity and personal growth: see your self as being a certain person, make it a wish in life, apply that wish to your will, and decide it is what you need to be truly happy in life. This does not mean money or possessions, it is not about the wants in life, it is more about the needs in life. It is needed to reflect on what is truly important to us and what we have always felt was missing in our existence.

Therefore, it is necessary to understand the role of imagination and, specifically, the necessity of an educated imagination. We educate our selves through the act of discipline and breaking our thoughts down into a pseudo-funnel of speech. By funneling that speech through logic and applied reasoning, we are able to speak in words designed to not only influence, but to apply scenarios and analogies to life. Imagination is not only important for internal thought but for an external expression of language. If the spoken word is nothing more than a thought expressed into language, then would it not make sense to understand how an educated imagination aids us in developing our thoughts into a more coherent level of understanding for everyone?

We all have a vivid imagination but do we all apply it to our everyday lives? We all have dreams but do we all believe so strongly in those dreams that we can imagine them happening? We all have goals and objectives but do we all place the educated discipline into achieving them? It is not that hard, my friends, it only takes a creative imagination, an education of your mind, discipline in following your dreams, and application of wish and will.

No, it may not happen over night, and yes, there is a chance of failure in your journey. But, without actually taking that first step, you will never really know what true success tastes like. Dreams are not there for the taking for everyone but they are there for those who believe anything is possible. They are there for those who see life as more than a day in-day out shuffle through time and space.

So, go on, be an individual: think a little harder; imagine you are teaching in front of a class; walking on foreign sands; or making music for the masses to sing and dance to. Don't let society define you but instead define your own identity and educate the masses on the importance of style; the importance of reflected thought and applicated imagination. Live for you not for others. Be a minority: I dare you.

Can you see it? Can you feel it? But, most of all...can you live it? Reach for the stars and you will find they are closer than you imagined. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"In these days, we are in a hare-and-tortoise race between mob rule and education: to avoid collapsing into mob rule we have to try to educate a minority that'll stand out against it."

- Northrop Frye

Beating of the Forgotten Heart

Lo and behold...it beats again.

I lay awake at nights now and listen to my heart beat ever so fast. I think of her smile and it beats faster. I hear her laughter and it beats faster still. I remember her touch and it beats through the surface of my skin.

Is this what it is truly meant to be like? Is this what it feels like to have another recognize your worth...to recognize your soul? Are our jaws meant to hurt this much because we are always smiling in pure happiness? Only time will tell but so far it has told me oh so much. The following is a story about the beginnings of a friendship and a true romance. Here you go and may you enjoy.

I have never been one to shy away from emotion - not mine, not yours, and not anyone else's for that matter. Emotion is what makes us human; it is what makes us raw; it is what makes our senses come alive with expression. Anger helps us realize anger is unnecessary; sadness allows us to taste ever-so-sweet pain; and happiness permits us to fly with angels.

Emotions are real. They remind us all that life is real.

But love as an emotion has never really lasted as a tangible for me...love for me has always been a handful of sand slipping through the tiny cracks in my tightly clenched fist. I have stood on a beach full of crystal but yet always ended up with the same result...lost through my fingers and lost in my life. I would stay the same while the other person would change. Or maybe we were always two completely different people not fated to be in this world.

Time always told the tale. My heart always paid the price. Still I soldiered on.

It was only a month ago that I had admitted the fact I was done with it for a while: done with the casual hello and the painful goodbye, done with the changing of self for the sake of another, and done with sleepless nights worrying how another may think. I told my self it was not worth it to put a soul through that anymore. I decided the next time would be with someone who recognized my worth. That it would be someone who took me for who I am.

I told my self that it was time to give up the search. I had searched high and low, through separate countries, and through Mountains and over seas. It was just a silly dream I told my self. Yes, sure, it brought me to so many places, and so many interesting, exciting memories were made, but in the end, was all the pain and loss worth it? Would it not be worth more to let it go and leave it behind so I could progress forward instead of staying in the same spot?

So I decided it was time to walk alone and if that meant walking alone for a lifetime then so be it. I placed my trust in the Universe and kept moving forward...one foot in front of the other. Smiling at life. Always smiling at what it brings me no matter what else comes my way. I would never give up on love because deep down inside I knew it would never give up on me.

I knew that if she was really out there waiting for me then it would have to be her that came to find me this time. If she was out there then she would make her self known.

Then it happened: a chance meeting on a cold winter evening. Lingering moments spent in a mirrored reflection of two familiar souls passing in the night. I listened in awe as she told me her want for someone to recognize her for true worth...her want for someone to take her as she is. I felt my breath catch in my throat as her words rang clear to the depths of my being. As she spoke, I felt my heart speed up ever so slightly.

It has not stopped its mad frantic race ever since.

Her eyes tell a different story from any other I have ever heard. They dance with mischief; they blaze with passion; and they hold mine in a deep embrace. Her eyes tell me she recognizes my worth and her words echo my unspoken thoughts. Her fingers brush against everything I have ever held true in my beliefs about what love was...and then it holds that belief ever so gently in the palm of her hand.

She is present in her emotion - she does not shy away from it nor does she hide it away from others. She is real. I have no idea what time holds for us. I only know what I have seen in this lifetime...I only know we are one in the same.

We fit.

I think of a life with her by my side. Not in front of me or behind me but right alongside of me. Walking and talking; laughing and smiling. There are not enough toes in the world to count off the ways she makes me happy...there are not enough hours in the day to spend with her in my presence. For every hard goodbye and parting of ways comes a smiling hello and hours full of special seconds. We make it all count. We leave nothing to chance. We talk. We listen. We grow.

And my heart beats faster and faster...faster and faster still.

I am still the same person. I still lift my legs when I drive over railyway tracks. I still hold the door open for people. I still wake in the morning and give thanks for life and all it offers. But she inspires an already inspired man to reach more; to achieve more; to accomplish his dreams. She is still the same person. She smiles at everyone she sees. She believes that love is not meant to be buried but appreciated and nurtured so it can grow for all to see. Together we become something more...something special.

Believe that love exists and show your friends and family that you care for them. Hug and laugh with them. Don't change who you are for someone else and remember to breathe in life. It will show you the way to your dreams. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"Do you remember when we first met...I sure do. It was some time in early September. Well you were lazy about it you made me wait around...I was so crazy about you I didn't mind."

- Jack Johnson

Nurture the Child

Bang.

We all have an inner child within that holds the answers to hidden questions; that holds the key to locked doors from our past. This little child sits on a doorstep on a hot summer day, swinging their legs back and forth, wanting to play, yet not understanding why people are so mean; why their friends insist on picking on them. The child only understands simplicity; innocence; it only understands the freedom of laughter.

Yet as we grow older, the idea of innocence becomes lost amongst the trials and tribulations of life: simplicity becomes a tormented past; a tormented past becomes a childhood lost; a childhood lost becomes the result of an unhappy adult.

Picture your self as a child again: What would you look like? What was important to you? I see a young boy with unruly curly locks; a demeanour of stubbornness and a look of determination on my face with arms crossed; and a strapping of six shooters around my waist, ready to draw and shoot if the camera does not click fast and the flash goes off. A moment captured in the archives of time. Can you see me? It is from this image that I will tell a story. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

Bang.

No matter where you read this or what background you may be from, it will be the same for us one and all: once upon a time we were all children. Everything was new; everything was an adventure; and our Mothers were always seemingly telling us what to do: Come to dinner, wash your face, close the door because we are not paying to heat up the neighbourhood, and so on and so on. Yet she was the one we always ran to after falling and scraping our knees; the only one who knew how to heal all travesties with the magic of a simple kiss; the one who tucked us in at night and made our dreams sweet with a story or a whispered "I love you."

What happens to us as we grow older? What do we lose in the swirling sands of time? Why must we always be so serious now when it is so much easier to laugh and smile instead?

Why indeed.

A wise woman once told me it is important to talk to that child from within; that it is necessary for personal growth; that it enables us to release torment from our past; that it allows us to heal, nay, it allows us to be free once more. She told me to lay in bed, to close my eyes, and to drop into my inner conscious and find that young child once again.

She asked me to not only find him, but to have a conversation with him; to take his hand and walk a while with him by my side; to listen to his words of unfathomable wisdom; to realize this very same child would one day become, well; would one day become me.

I know it sounds crazy, believe me I do. But I closed off the world for an hour or so before sleep last night; I ignored the worries of adulthood; and went in search of childhood. I found a young boy all by him self, running around with no one to play, and yet still smiling and still laughing. I took him by the hand and asked him how he was; took him by the hand and asked him if he was okay. In his eyes I saw the innocence of youth. In his smile I saw the memory of summer past. In his stature I saw the determination of an unforseeable future.

Bang.

We talked. I listened. We laughed. I healed. Not too much later he asked if it was okay for him to go and find his friends so he could play.

"Will you come back again?" He asked. "I would like it very much if you would come back again so we could talk some more."

Yes, I said, yes. I would like that very much.

"Promise?" He asked once more.

Yes, I said, I promise.

Then he smiled at me and walked away. As I watched him go, the child suddenly turned around with guns drawn and said "Bang." He ran away giggling into the hot summer sun and trailing peals of childish joy behind him. He ran away leaving a man in awe of life.

Find your child within. Find the time to take them by the hand and walk along the dusty roads of forgotten paths. Find the time to talk. Find the time to listen. Find the time to laugh like a child again. But, above all, find the time to heal. Find the time to remember who we were eventually becomes what we are.

Dream. Search. Question. Live. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"Beauty is being in harmony with what you are." - Peter Nivio Zarlenga

Rainbows and Butterflies

It is not fun to wake up with a headache; to sleep with a headache; to breathe with a headache; or to even study with a headache. It is not fun to live with a daily reminder of a whacked out night lost in the shifting sands of time. But, although I am used to living life with these headaches, I made a vow years ago to never let them dictate my life.

Now in my present days, I feel that vow bending at times as the pain becomes constant and oh so overbearing. When the thud just thumps and the lights become bright; when the interesting conversation is unfortunately lost to the stimulation of a racing heart beat.

But we are only truly responsible for one thing in this life: to adapt; to overcome; and to evolve. We can either shoulder the responsibility of working harder when the level of responsibility increases or we can throw our cards in and call it a game. It is up to us; up to you; up to me. How we walk with our heads high is determined by the individual. This is how I do it. Here you go, and may you enjoy.

When even the slightest touch from a loved one brings with it a grasp of pain; when even the lightest kiss brings with it a wary cringe of the eyebrow. These are the days when only darkness brings with it relief. A want to shut away from the world and sleep the madness away into the depths of time. But no. That would be giving up.

So yesterday I stayed awake and fought through the heavy press of eyelids, stayed awake through the insistent nag of a digging blade behind my eyes, and I stayed awake to read and edit an old life. I did what I always do: write, write, and write some more.

It is the sweetest love in my life. To take thoughts and place them in print, to read a life that seems so alien to me yet I recognize it as my own. It is when I forget the pain, it is when I forget the loss of love, and it is when I remember that it feels so good to be alive.

It will not end me. I will not allow it. It is not in the act of refusal that I take strength but in the intention of being something more. They can poke and prod me to find empty answers to questions I have asked many many times. They can even call me a medical mystery. I already know I am a walking miracle. Nothing will ever stop me from reaching my goals.

Not even the constant thump, thump, thumping of blinding white lights ripping and surging through my memories. No. Never. I am too strong for it. For all my human frailties and limitations I refuse to let anything but my goals shine the way for me. Even as the candle burns brightly in front of me I will ignore the dripping hot wax coating my hand.

I will do my best to ignore the pain.

A quick look into self to recognize strength is all we need in the end. To recognize the shift in our direction, to adapt to that shift, to overcome and evolve. In front of us lies the road to all of our questions; the road to all of our dreams. If we let it wear us down, if we let it stop us when life is at its hardest and the storm rages on and on, if we let it beat us, well; then we have truly lost. Find your own strength, my friends, find it when the day is long, and find it when the night is black and dark.

Find it in your self. Fight. Never give in. Fight damn it. Fight. In the end, it is life that we fight to live; it is life that we fight to understand. Never stop questioning and never stop dreaming. When it is all said and done, pain is only weakness leaving your body. Until we meet again, my friends, until we meet again.

"Well I woke up this morning, rainbows filled the sky. Yes I woke up this morning and rainbows filled the sky. And there was God telling me "everything's going to be alright." - Jack Johnson